A Little Static Fling
by caiitlon
Summary: Dobby spends a steamy night with the sock that bought his freedom and won his love.


It had all started out innocently enough, just a sock given to a poor and miserable house elf by the famous Harry Potter. Dobby had immediately been freed and his eyes had been full to the brim with amorous tears, the piece of fabric being clutched to his chest as one might hold a baby or something else very dear to the heart. It was his knight in shining armor, the other piece to his soul, the most beautiful and wonderful thing his large, gaping eyes had ever had the fortune to set sight on, and for days after that, he simply stared at it, utterly sick with love. For countless hours, he would lay, feet crossed at the ankle and swinging daintily back and forth, his chin held up by either palm, gazing longingly at the sock, _into_ the sock. He drank in every bit of its sleek white form; he marveled over beauty and perfection. When Clarence, the name the sock had been christened with, would catch him staring, Dobby would avert his eyes and heat would rise to his face, a tender shade of red becoming all too visible. He was in love and incredibly shy and Clarence did not pay him one bit of notice.

In fact, even when Dobby found himself stiffening in areas he had never felt such sensations before, except for maybe once while in the Dursley household, Clarence would simply lie there, limp and impassive, cool and uncaring, its apathy drifting lazily though the air and slapping Dobby in the face.

This went on for months, and with each agonizingly slow minute, with each cruel day, Dobby was finding it harder and harder to resist making a move on Clarence. He knew for a fact he would be rejected because really, what chance did he, a disgusting and wrinkly house elf, have with such a divine specimen of the sock kind? Desperate for help, he had even gone to Kreacher for advice. The gnarled and crotchety old house elf had spoken one word in a wry whisper, " Rape, " and Dobby's eyes flew open, enlightenment spreading across his face. Rape. The word lingered around in his mind and he massaged it, mulled it over for a while. It was the perfect answer. It gave him a faint ray of hope. In the end, he decided it was the only way to go about things and the only way to ease the unquenchable desire he felt for Clarence. The sock would enjoy it in the long run, right? This was what he told himself.

When he arrived back home on one cloudy afternoon, his home being a cupboard beneath the sink in the kitchen of Hogwarts, Clarence was there and as always, just laying about. In fact, it didn't even so much as cast a glance in Dobby's direction as he swept in, a determined look on his face. Though it hadn't even flinched, Clarence could feel something was different about the creature. The change in the attitude he oozed was quite noticeable. Rather than seeming bashful or nervous, he was overflowing with confidence and had a look in his eyes of pure, ravenous hunger and lust. All of this was directed and poured onto Clarence. But still, Clarence did not respond and this drove the sex-craved house elf wild. " Dobby loves you, Clarence, and Dobby has ever since he first saw you! " He began, advancing upon the sock, whom now was shuttering in the shadows of the farthest corner. Dobby continued, undeterred and relentless. " Clarence has to understand..." The words came out in a throaty murmur as slowly, he slid out of his form-fitting potato sack, bare and tanned body exposed for the world to see. In this case, and forever, his world would be that one lucky sock.

If Clarence could have screamed, it would have let the most horrid screech tear out from its mouth. Even so, it could not help but gawk at Dobby's bare form and at his erect member, tiny sock form quivering with excitement and fear.

Again, he stepped forward, his mind fogged and his eyes glossy. " Dobby needs you... " He breathed, voice husky, as the last word fell from his lips, he lunged forward, letting his fingers slither around and take hold of Clarence's fragile and soft body. He gave an involuntary shudder as his hands caressed the cotton it was made of, as he gently and deliberately rubbed it from his face, let it brush tantalizingly against the side of his throat, let it dance across his shoulders, chest and stomach, and finally, to his lower regions. The touch was so faint and so ghost-like, yet so very enjoyable, like a thousand tiny kisses across ones flesh. A low and guttural sounding moan, infused with the purest pleasure, sounded out from him. Clarence was working its way around his shaft, twisting itself around and applying sudden pressure. Dobby bit down roughly against his lower lip as it continued, Clarence tightening around him, releasing, tightening again until his hand shot out, working the sock up and down, up and down, up and down in a pumping motion. It was all too much and he bit down harder, a tiny puddle of blood seeping out and dripping down in a measly stream down his chin. Faster he went, riding on the waves of bliss, of ecstasy, of everything good one could ever hope to feel.

He screwed his eyes shut, listening to the rubbing sound of fabric that could only be Clarence's groans of delight, feeling the burning feeling that could only be the friction of their entangled skin as it slid against one another and became one.

Dobby felt as if were going to burst, so intense and gratifying were the sensations he felt rippling through him. He continued to move Clarence rapidly back and forth until finally, abruptly, he shoved himself into its opening. The material it was made of hugged and clutched onto his manhood. Quivering violently, sweet, sticky, and translucent juice began to spew out and into its very core. Dobby was gasping until eventually, finished, he slumped backwards as his chest heaved. Droplets of sweat were running down his brow though he paid no mind to it, staring solely at and focusing solely on Clarence. The sock was now moist. Liquid seeped out its moist body and was pooling on the ground just below and around it. Dobby, still driven by passion, crawled forward on all fours and began to lap it up, much like a cat would drink from its water bowl, all the while keeping his gaze on Clarence. Licking his lips, he got to his knees and a smile of pure contentment flew over his face and he stared at Clarence as if he had never laid eyes on anything more precious.

" Dobby loves Clarence. "

Clarence, dripping wet and glistening, just fell forward and Dobby took this as a nod of compliance that meant yes, I love you too.


End file.
